


Mind Your Manners

by SassyEggs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Russian Roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyEggs/pseuds/SassyEggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Russian roulette on LiveJournal</p><p>Lady_Scimitar's prompt:  'I love the idea of Sandor being a bit awkward when it comes to high-born manners. Perhaps a future fic of Sansa trying to teach Sandor how to dance or dine properly. Comedy or seduction could easily play a part here.'</p><p>Did somebody say comedy or seduction?  Well, if you insist...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Your Manners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Scimitar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Scimitar/gifts).



Sandor Clegane had only been in Winterfell a fortnight and already wanted to leave; Rickon had made him a lord, and Sansa was determined to make him act like one.

“You’re not even trying,” she complained after spending the better part of an hour attempting to get him to sit correctly.

“Because it’s useless,” he snarled, slumped in his chair and stubbornly resisting her efforts.

“It’s not useless,” she insisted crossly. She moved to the door of the solar and closed it firmly before returning to her spot in front of him, all under his wary gaze.  “It’s a skill all lords should know.  You’d be surprised the things people will do when you use the right words.  Would you like to see?”

Judging by the way he was glaring at her she would guess he was not entirely pleased with the direction this lesson was taking, but he was also too curious to argue and nodded slowly.

“Use your words, Sandor.”

“Yes,” he grumbled unhappily.

“Good,” she chirped. “Let’s start by sitting properly in that chair.”

He narrowed his eyes at her but mostly complied, straightening up in the seat and placing his feet flat on the floor but leaving his legs spread wide.

“Close enough,” she relented, not wanting to correct him when he’d only just started to comply. “Would you like a kiss?”

“Is this a game?” he growled, distrustful of her intentions.

“Yes. Would you?”

He started to nod, almost reluctantly, then thankfully remembered his lesson. “Yes,” he rasped, but after she raised an eyebrow at him he amended it to “yes, _please.”_

Denying such a chivalrous request would be impolite so really she had no choice but to agree, leaning in slowly for a completely chaste but lingering kiss, breaking apart after a few glorious moments.

“Would you like to kiss me?” she asked, her lips still hovering over his.

“Yes, please.”

“What do you say?”

His face twisted up in confusion. “It’s not ‘yes, please?’”

“We already learned this, Sandor.”

“May I kiss you? Please?  My lady?”

“Close enough.”

She gave an unladylike yelp when he pulled her roughly onto his lap and pressed his mouth to hers, parting her lips with his tongue and kissing her deeply, _finally_ following through on all the heated looks he’d been casting in her direction since the moment he arrived in Winterfell. 

“I think…” she gasped when he finally released her. “That’s enough for today.” 

“Surely there’s a lot more you can teach me,” he teased.

“No, I can’t, I… have somewhere to be.” He raised one brow at her suspiciously, prompting her to continue though she knew he wouldn’t like it.  “Rickon wants me to teach Tormund how to be a lord as well.”

“That’s not fucking happening,” he barked.

“Sandor…” she sighed, disappointed that he’d forgotten his courtesies already.

“That’s not fucking happening, _please.”_

Sansa opened her mouth to correct him but gladly stopped when his lips met hers.

_Oh… close enough._

**Author's Note:**

> We had a 500-word guideline, so it's... abbreviated.


End file.
